Page 22 of Stormbinder King
I felt a flicker of unease, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I looked away quickly, trying to force my frozen legs to move, but I felt rooted to the spot.
And when I risked another glance, I saw that he was still looking at me.
Fuck
Fear pounded through me.
Why did he keep looking at me so intently?
Why were his dark eyes locked on me? His face was harsh and unsmiling, a strong nose over a tight slash of a mouth and a stubborn jaw.
I felt uneasy.
Why did he keep looking at me?
Where was Jack?
Someone walked in front of us and I slid sideways in relief, moving behind some of the other shifters and hugging the dark edges of the clearing.
Loud music thumped, the ground reverberating as dozens of shifters danced in little whirling circles.
I emerged from the shadows, and there he was, directly in front of me.
And blocking my exit.
Now that I could see him closely, I saw that his eyes were very dark, almost pitch-black, his clothes looking rough and plain.
He was close, way too close, his body so big that I couldn’t see anyone behind him, and he backed me up so hard and fast my ass hit the side of the storage with a thump.
My head spun.
“Who are you? Are you one of the hunters?” I asked tremulously.
“I hunt some things,” said the man.
I didn’t know if he was a shifter, but if he was, he would make an enormous wolf, shaggy and rough, dark-furred and brutal.
Up close, he was an unnerving person. He was so big—huge broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms and thighs. His face was forbidding too, heavy-lidded and harsh.
And the way he was looking at me—brows drawn together and disapproving.
“Come here,” he said, extending a finger and gesturing impatiently.
As if I was just someone to be commanded by him!
“No,” I said, my throat dry.
There was something unnerving about him, some great cruelty that I sensed there.
I thought he would be the last person you’d want to get on the bad side of.
To my horror, I saw his big hand reach out for me. Even his hands were massive, thick fingers criss-crossed with scars.
There was a muscle that pulled in his tanned forearm as my eyes widened.
Shit, I had to get out of here.
